


Red Phase

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Coddling, Explicit Period Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: A quote from Simon Baker, revering the link between physical love and new life, seems rooted in a woman’s cycle and what a man brings to that. And that idea took root in me as this little vignette with Patrick and Teresa. It may be unconventional subject matter and awkward for some. EXPLICIT PERIOD SEX. Meant to be tender and tasteful while honoring the reality, but for some there’s no way to make it that way. One-shot. AU. Red John is dead. Strong content. If you don’t like that type of material, do not read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.This fic was originally posted on FFnet on July 16, 2013. Now here with a few refining edits.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Simon Baker on having babies: "It blew me out that a perfectly formed little person can come from such a simple, yet intimate, moment. How many people make love to get their rocks off without being spiritually moved by the potential to create human life? We all take sex for granted."
> 
> From: http://thebakerboy.ucoz.com/load/interviews_1992_2007/1993_september_interview_for_new_idea/4-1-0-9

Sometimes Patrick Jane imagined that his life with a woman had him cast as a cat. He padded around his mate, entertaining her, playing with her, sometimes teasing and irritating her, bringing her a tasty dead mouse or a fluffy bird or a nice lean lizard, always looking for an invitation to mount her or chancing to bare his belly to her. There were times when he thought things were going well, only to have his ears batted or find that she had clamped her teeth onto his jawbone. Other times he feared to come close, only to be grabbed up and have his head thoroughly and affectionately licked.  


Living well with a woman was the most delightful state of being that Patrick Jane could imagine. And he was paired well. No, life was not perfect. It was delightful despite, or perhaps mostly because of its imperfection.  


The most prominent meta-feature, the one controlling the essence of his marriage, were the timetables and cycles set by a still fertile and menstruating woman. Moods and drive were an obvious manifestation. Less obvious were modesty, dress, food, housecleaning, going out and, well, name anything. But of course the most major affected part was the sex life of the couple. Patrick Jane loved his ride in the cycle of life that was Teresa Lisbon. It made him feel that he had found his place as a man in the natural world. This knowledge and the satisfaction it brought made Patrick a man who knew how to be happily married, a blessing to both parties.  


Teresa's cycles excited Patrick, it didn't matter which part. Most of the time, he even enjoyed the variability in her mood. He loved the changes in both her breath and her musk, the tenderness or toughness of her breasts, the slight differences in plumpness and leanness in her body, especially in her breasts, belly and behind, even her receptivity to sex-- including her variability as to what kind of sex it would be.  


Truthfully, he was a bit feral about menstrual blood and its part in the wild cycle between man and woman. It reminded him that every month Teresa, also a creature of biology and the great man-woman cycle of blood, prepared to receive his child. She shed that preparation every month that they had not created one, mildly admonished for her unreliable behavior by its associated discomforts. It made sex a constantly changing experience as they varied practices and positions to match and accommodate what was going on with her body at any given time, as well as variations in how they felt to one another when he was inside her.  


On the other side of the scale, Teresa was a generous and enthusiastic lover and always found ways to satisfy him well beyond his own intent.  


He had said once, and wisely he thought, that men are toasters and women are accordions. Even under ridicule, he stood quietly by that precept and it had served him well. His body stayed pretty much the same, his moods likewise. When they varied it was usually in response to situations that impinged on him externally. His internal states were mostly stable since he and Teresa were paired. Especially with sex, there was on and there was off. Sometimes he was more on, aroused and driven, sometimes less and easier. 'On' was any instance of his own desire or signs of her receptivity. 'Off' was when the act was immediately over.  


With his wife, on and off were Schrödinger's cat and often unknowable until you took the plunge and lifted the cover. You might get your ears batted. You might have sex so mind-blowing as to be previously unimaginable. Either way, or any state in between, it was worth the risk. And usually he could bring her around from an ear-batting. Teresa responded to him with love and desire because Patrick noticed her, listened to her, responded to her in the love and delight that came straight from his heart.  


Teresa was menstruating. She was not receptive and Patrick wanted her in the worst way. While her mood and her lethargy would be a barrier, he knew from experience that she was especially sensitive and passionate when seduced properly during this time. Her breasts were ripe and probably too sensitive to handle. There was a slight swell to her belly that she called bloated, but it enticed him. Her face was a little rounder and looked so kissable. Patrick was nearly beside himself with lust for her.  


Teresa always felt better after a nice shower. And she came out of the bathroom now, naked and tantalizing, toweling her hair, a white string curling out of the cleft of her sex and hanging upward to one side in the soft curl of her modest hair. Patrick was struck nearly dumb with adoration.  


"How do you feel?"  


"Better. Human."  


"Ready for a little nap?"  


"I know what you want." She tried not to smile at the unspoken, hopeful content of his invitation.  


"Don't you?"  


"Can we just snuggle?"  


"My favorite pastime." Patrick removed his clothing and pulled down the covers. He loved being skin to skin with her.  


She didn't feel like clothes, either. "I see you're ready for something"  


"Just don't want to put you at a disadvantage. This makes us equal." Actually, he didn't want to interrupt anything passionate that might develop between them by jostling clothes and the bed when she was already naked and relaxed.  


He returned her amused smile and she rolled her eyes at him. Arching her eyebrows, Teresa looked pointedly at his already aroused state and issued her first condition. "Don't put your arm across me anywhere, honey."  


"Wouldn't think of it. It would feel too heavy, I know."  


Teresa lay flat on her back, Patrick curled on his side facing, but not touching her.  


"Your arm smells good." He kissed the top of it near the shoulder. When she didn't squirm away or tell him to stop, Patrick kissed his way to the inside of her elbow, where he spent a little time, softly pressing his lips and sampling the pulse under her clean scent.  


"Mmmmmm. That feels nice." His lips were so full and warm. They left something sweet on her skin instead of pulling from it.  


Patrick feathered the side of her breast and watched the nipple stand straight up. Parts of him were doing the same.  


"Don't touch my nipples, okay? They hurt."  


"No. Just the sides." He was kissing there now, making little blots with his warm tongue while he stroked the side of her hip and thigh. Her breath sighed a little tune.  


"But don't touch my belly. It's tender."  


"Of course not. Just here." He pressed lightly on the crease of her leg and caressed where it joined the delta of her sex. The nerves there always excited her, made her think about her clitoris.  


"Ahhh, ahhh." Teresa moved her hips a little and groaned. Patrick could tell it was desire, not irritation. He was fully erect now, whining almost imperceptibly in his chest as waves of passion surged through his body.  


"I want you, but I don't want to move, Patrick."  


He thought he could change that a little. "There's no need for you to move." Now he tongued the nerves at the creases of her leg, warming her skin and making her squirm, her breath much faster. Legs parting slightly, Teresa arched her back like a lazy cat, pushing her mons up a little. Patrick hovered his cupped hand over it, brushing the short curling hair, not pressing at all but dropping his thumb low, just above the tip of her clit, circling. He could feel the little shaft firm up.  


"Mmmmmm," she purred softly. "Now you make me want to move, Patrick. Just a little. Don't position me." Teresa felt all of her flesh start to buzz erotically, her nipples hot. She wanted to be touched, but on her terms just now.  


"No. You're fine just where you are."  


Patrick smiled at her tiny, goal-oriented movements. She had to be concentrating on her own sexual satisfaction to be that accurate in nudging her clit against his thumb. He flicked it several times and she moaned. Teresa's entire pelvis was radiating heat. She always felt a little feverish to him when she was menstruating.  


Moving his fingers to the skin just over an ovary, he gently circled where he imagined it to be. The sensation soon filled her entire sex and Teresa's moaning took on a gentle cadence and rhythm as her breathing deepened and she murmured her husband's name.  


Patrick continued to kiss and tongue the small area over each of her ovaries, running his fingers along the edge of the mons as he traveled from one to the other, then back to the creases at the top of her thighs until Teresa started to whine and sigh. Finally, she opened her legs and Patrick put a finger there, petting only her clitoris.  


"Oh! So good, so good. Don't hold me down."  


"You're free as a bird, sweetheart. Move however you like." Patrick placed his hands on the bed, framing her hips to give himself support in touching as little of her as possible, moving the white string aside and licking the cleft where her clitoris nestled, tonguing and kissing, nibbling and sucking, driving Teresa into a passion that would have to be satisfied.  


"Oh, honey, I want to come!"  


He was dripping moisture, desperate to get inside her. Even if she had called him honey, he didn't want to make her come now and then try again while inside her. It might be too much activity for her and he'd wind up with batted ears instead. "Are you ready for me?"  


Teresa chuckled and rolled her eyes under their lazy lids. "Only for you. Anyone else would be running away. I know you like me bloody."  


"Yes, I do. You're warm and red. It's very earth mother of you. It's feral."  


"I do that just for you," she teased. "You love that about me."  


"Yes."  


He picked up the string, tugging a little to get her attention.  


"I just put that in there." She loved the feel of his fingers touching her down there, eager to get at her.  


"You have another."  


He braced his fingertips against her puffy labia and gently tugged the end of the tampon out to get a finger hold on it. "We'll make a mess of the sheets."  


"Oh, screw the sheets!" The sexual excitement was white noise over her general malaise and it felt so good.  


With a slight twist, the tampon slid out easily and he set it aside. "I like making a mess of the sheets with you, lovely girl."  


"I know." He positioned himself between her legs, rock hard and dripping. A liquid line of red told him where to place the head of his feverish cock. God, she was so warm already! "Oh, Teresa, I want in there so bad." He worried the head at her entrance, teasing her, testing her.  


"Don't go in far. I ache in there."  


Pressing in very slowly so as not to jar the swollen passage, the plump head of his penis finally slid in with a little pop. She was an oven! He looked how he was placed in her and saw the line of blood that circled him where they were joined. "Oh, god. Oh, god!" Something deep in his brain pounded the root of him, demanding satisfaction.  


"You don't believe in God."  


He began to move in and out, but only a little way, forcing himself to control the short movements that smeared them both. "Oh, goddess. Oh, goddess!"  


"Ha ha! You are a darling jackass, Patrick. I love you."  


"You're going to warp me for life if you call me jackass while I'm touching you like this. I'll expect love and sex whenever I hear that term of endearment."  


"Ah! Oh! Fuck me, Patrick! Fuck me, but only like a kiss!"  


He had obviously reached the right spot. Framing her with flexed arms to keep his weight off of her, he did as Teresa asked. Her swollen and feverish center kissed him back, holding him, melting his flesh to hers. He went in a little deeper and angled down gently, staying clear of her cervix, still, except for gently rotating and rubbing a spot on her soft floor. She was a swollen pillow, warm and overwhelming. They were both so close.  


Teresa was already breathing the imminent arrival of her climax. She felt Patrick rigid and full inside her but so gentle, rubbing her into ecstasy.  


"Are you ready?'  


"Ye—" Her orgasm grabbed her then and took her speech for a moment, cradling her into the rhythmic pulse of release.  


Patrick was already shooting into her, great jets that pushed up from the base of his body and made him cry out, "Teresa!" It was all he could do to keep from shoving in to the hilt. But he lay half outside her, throbbing into relief, catching his breath. When he pulled out, they were both a swirl of cream and blood, dripping the signs of life.  


"Let's make a baby soon, sweetheart. In two weeks, right?" Patrick wanted to love her all the way through a pregnancy, perhaps many, raise the children they made of their own flesh and blood. The thought filled him with dreams of life. Loving Teresa through the entire blood cycle that would unite them for most of their lives together. And beyond, when they were free from it except for what pumped in their hearts for each other.  


Teresa watched his dreaming face, eyes shining tenderness far beyond what had happened there today. She loved this man with all her heart. "Are you sure, Patrick? You'd have to wait so long to make love to me bloody, again." She smiled, teasing him.  


"It would be worth it. Our baby would be living off your blood. I wouldn't be jealous."  


Teresa laughed.  


"I'll trade it for extra time with your boobs after he's born and they're all swollen, all the time. The baby can wait his turn once in awhile."  


"You ass. That's just greedy!"  


"I'm greedy for you."  


"I know. I love that about you."  


Considering the long unnatural and danger-fraught separation they had endured, greediness for each other was a righteous virtue that pointed, smiling, at the path to happiness.


End file.
